


You Took My Heart By Surprise

by Mildredo



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 03:55:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5402123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mildredo/pseuds/Mildredo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Jake and Amy are both idiots who can't say the thing even when they want to say the thing. Inspired largely by <a href="http://phil-the-stone.tumblr.com/post/134224362828/and-i-love-lying-ok-really-at-this-point-i">this</a> post on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Took My Heart By Surprise

Jake doesn’t know why he’s hesitating.  
That’s a lie. He knows.  
He loves too hard. Too fast and too soon and too much. It’s never ended well for him, never, and there’s still part of him that is still reeling just from Amy wanting to be with him. He can’t rush into this one. Amy’s different. And he loves her – _god_ , he loves her, he’s loved her for so long – but he can’t risk ruining everything. Not again. Not with her.

Amy doesn’t know why she’s hesitating.  
That’s a lie. She knows.  
She’s never felt like this. She’s liked the guys she’s dated, even come close to saying she loved one or two of the more serious boyfriends, but she hasn’t said those words aloud since she was seventeen. She’s not a starry-eyed teenager any more. Jake is everything. He’s her partner and her friend before all else; he’s her biggest motivation and her biggest distraction. She loves him. She knows it with a certainty she hasn’t known before. But every time she’s got somewhere close to this point it’s gone wrong and she doesn’t want this to fall apart. Not again. Not with him.

  


The last time was terrible. The last time was Sophia. The last time was an accident and not entirely true until it was. The last time was unanticipated heartache. He can’t just say it again and expect everything to be fine, to be perfect, not after that.

The last time was when she was a junior in high school. The last time was Jamal going away to college a year before she graduated. The last time was goodbye and juvenile promises of forever that were shattered two weeks later with a letter in the mail and Amy sobbing in her bedroom because he’d met someone else. She can’t just say it again and expect everything to be fine, to be perfect, not after that.

  


Jake knows the stories. He’s spent years with Amy, watching her try and fail and try again. He’s sat beside her in patrol cars on mornings after break ups and terrible dates. He’s listened to her attempt to rationalize her way out of feeling sad and he’s been on coffee runs so he can make sure hers is extra strong to combat the dark circles under her eyes that she hasn’t quite managed to hide. Her happiness is his priority. And she’s happy. Telling her that he loves her before she’s ready will only screw that up.

Amy knows the stories. She’s spent years with Jake, recounting tales of his ridiculous dates, some of which she’s honestly surprised the girl stayed through. She saw him with Sophia, saw the way he cared about her like Amy had never seen before. She saw how much the end of that relationship hurt him: she saw him take over and ruin a federal drill in the name of _catharsis_. His happiness is her priority. And he’s happy. Telling him that she loves him before he’s ready will only screw that up.

  


Jake has nearly said it a thousand times. The words catch in his throat when Amy is fresh out of the shower, her hair long and wet and sticking to her shoulders. They almost tumble out every time she looks up from her computer screen to smile at him. There's a battle inside him when he gets home from a late shift and she's already in his apartment, wearing his clothes as pajamas, soft and beautiful and _there_ and they collapse in front of the TV together, exhausted and happy. He's kissed her hard during sex to stop the words pouring out of him and he's deleted the ends of so many texts and emails.

It needs to be a moment. It needs to be big and romantic and wonderful. And the perfect time just isn't arriving.

Amy has nearly said it a thousand times. The words catch in her throat when she gets out of the shower and Jake looks at her like she's made of gold, even though she feels like a cold, damp, subway rat. They almost tumble out when she glances up from her computer and he's opposite her, smiling back. There's a battle inside her every time she works late and when she gets home Jake's already there, wearing the sweatpants he keeps folded in her drawers, soft and warm and _there_ , and they curl up together to watch TV until one of them falls asleep. She's almost blurted it out during sex but Jake always manages to kiss her hard right before she does, and she's whispered it into his hair, his skin, his bones, when he's the first one asleep.

It needs to be a moment. It needs to be big and romantic and wonderful. And the perfect time just isn't arriving.

  


It's been six months and he still hasn't said it. It's constantly there, warm inside his chest and always trying to bubble up and out of him, but he's scared. It's the last bastion of the casual, the non-committal. Saying it is admitting that this is serious. It's admitting that this is important and definite and potentially career-ruining if it all goes wrong.

But he loves her. He just has to say it.

It's been six months and she still hasn't said it. It's constantly there, like a hook in her stomach pulling her back despite her desire to keep moving. She's scared. It's commitment. Saying it is saying she wants him, only him, for an indeterminate time period up to and including forever. It's risking the final salvageable shreds of a friendship for something that could upset her chances of making captain if it all goes wrong. And when hasn't it all gone wrong?

But she loves him. She just has to say it.

  


They're walking in Prospect Park when the moment comes. It's a cold evening in December and they're off duty together for the first time in weeks. The paths are lit mostly by the twinkling holiday lights overhead and somewhere someone is frying latkes. Jake has one gloved hand shoved deep into his coat pocket and one holding Amy's, the wool of his black gloves against the red of hers. They walk past a young man with an acoustic guitar singing his own versions of Christmas classics, drawing a small crowd with his talent. They stop to watch for a while; he's just starting up a slow, melodic cover of _All I Want For Christmas is You_ and the gathered throng separates into huddled couples. Amy leans her head against Jake's shoulder and he responds by letting go of her hand and instead wrapping his arm around her waist.

“I love you,” Amy says quietly, and she doesn't think Jake heard her over the music and the pounding of her heart until he presses a kiss against her hair and squeezes his arm around her a little tighter.

“I love you too,” he says, and Amy can hear his smile. She turns and rests her arms loosely around Jake's neck, both his hands now splayed across the small of her back, and he kisses her as the song ends and the snow starts to fall.

It was a moment. It was romantic and wonderful and everything they were both waiting for. Amy tosses a few dollars into the singer's guitar case before they continue their walk, both of them somehow different and lighter than they were before.

 


End file.
